also watching the weather outside and recovering from a huge lunch.

According to my calendar, Waitangi day is celebrated in New Zealand. So maybe braised kiwi will be the order of the day.

I have found a great relaxation technique to use on Fridays after a long week at work. It is a variation on the theme of going to a local driving range and hitting golf balls.

This also involves hitting golf balls. The trick is to hit them from 200 yards with a .30 caliber rifle. Very therapeutic.

Sun is shining, and I am waiting fo rmy band mates to show up so we can go practice for our gig tomorrow. We get to play w/ three other bands at the WInter Carnival, in front of a totally apathetic crowd. But it's $$, which we need, so...

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http://www.angelfire.com/mi/heyshutuprecords

dropping by quickly to share this thought for today:

"When trouble arises and things look bad, there is always one individual who perceives a solution and is willing to take command. Very often, that individual is crazy."

Found a web page abt Waitangi Day. The NZ govt' has tons of festivities planned. Buy I still have no clue what it is they're all celebrating...

Perhaps I shall seek out our local New Zealand Angel & inquire.

And Agatha -- all I can say is/the Water Pistol Cure worked to stop Six from pissing in one particalar corner of my humble abode. Granted/it requires you to be at home all day w/the pistol discreetly handy. But once I caught her lifting her tail & getting ready to water my walls/I doused her but good! This was back in Oct. or Nov. And she hasn't pissed in the house since.

It's totally an attitude thing -- yr cat's way of saying 'fuck you' abt something. But you'll never figure out what/so don't bother trying. Just get yrself a water pistol & let her know whos' the boss.

http://www.webworkshop.co.nz/waitangi/govt.html

wondering what ever happened to Hazel Pethig

Hazel quit school and moved in with a bisexual performance artist who paints himself up like thr Canadian flag and rants against the evils of socialism in a narcissistic society.

You can purchase her handmade wicker placemats on Friday and Saturday mornings along Telegraph Ave.

checking in to see what's up. Nice photo at the start page, eh?

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nibbling on a Nestle Crunch bar and sipping coffee.

not talking to anybody. the heater is not wokring and i'm cold as hell.

Or maybe it was Durant.

marveling at the wonders of creativity. Check this out:
http://www.ittc.ukans.edu/~botanika/warning_label.htm

Found the link in today's USA Today.

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http://www.ittc.ukans.edu/~botanika/warning_label.htm

using Lynx for the first time and using the internet from some place besides my house for the first time.. it feel's wrong.

getting back to work.

Taking a break. Going to a meeting. Being three people at once...same old same old.

Sittin' in my house, wondering what to eat for a snack..

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http://people.we.mediaone.net/gummibear/tisha

going to hell

freezing

http://www.angelfire.com/mi/heyshutuprecords

packing my bag with resumes and a map of the city.

i found a job i really really want. so i will present my credentials in person today.

expeditions to san francisco always seem like such huge day trips. the city's only 6 miles away, but the whole walk-to-subway-a-few-miles-ride-for-45-minutes-then-take-the-buses deal is always like a little adventure. hell, i can still count how many times i have actually entered the city on two hands. it's funny, considering this is a trip i might have to make on a daily basis very soon. fuck, i'm going to have to get up early in the mornings. very very early. yup. HA. i don't care. i want a job. i want to be productive. and if it means i have to say goodbye forever to my childlike wandering lazy-assed ways, then so be it. the piercings are out, the hair is now a human color, the clothes are mended of rips, and i actually don't mind. is this aging? yup. i think i am ready for it. i think this is the first time i have reveled change which moves me AWAY from entropy. BRING IT ON.

2/4/99, 1:13 PM
simon is:

wondering how a person can be kept so damn busy and still not manage to accomplish anything.

Chordata, I felt the exact same way a couple months ago when I finally decided to cut all my hair off. Funny thing is, I've had a "respectable grown up" job for years.

Dealing with condescension in the work place. My boss in this business of bullshit is very close to a full on nervous breakdown and I think I�m standing too close to avoid getting seriously injured by the blast. So sick of writing this crap. Currently I�m selling caramel colored carbonated sugar water to the masses. Sitting on pins and needles while I wait for the results of a recent job interview. My headhunter says I�m their favorite candidate so far which bodes well, but I would be annoyed if it�s just a setup for a big fall. Just trying to let things be and see what happens, but I really want to be out of here before my boss comes in and goes postal.

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getting ready for vacation tomorrow. going backhome for a week.

happy brithday!!!

too late ^^"....

Making up shit to say for this evening's therapy session...

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picking the lint outta my third nostril and feeding it to this homeless guy who I hide under my desk.

www.subgenius.com

eating soup and watching television. news about a landlord and a zoo.

working really hard.

ha!

sending presents, eating toast and looking forward to today's reunion

Writing something lame and pointless, as usual.

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http://i.am/toasterhead

like the match-head.

i dig friction.

Friday, paycheck time
Drink all day and rock all night
Paybacks on Monday

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waiting for the stain to dry

does that bull make you think of blindswine? why?

eating carrots and potato chips, going to sleep. have not woekn up from last night's dream yet.

beyond happy. I got the job I've been trying for, YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

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Just got of work (at 7:00 am PST) drinking a nice cold Coors Light, answering my EMail and leaving a new number for the Payphone Project. Oh, also enjoying some delicious vienna sausages (made from mechanically separated chicken and beef parts)

glueing my track shoes. visiting the neighbors with the USPS petition. splitting Bull Pine, the wood from Hell. i can only do two or three logs per day, because they are all twisted. everyone else has a power driven splitter, but i am using the wedge and the maul. it makes a piercing ringing sound that gives me and the hounds headaches. here on Buckhorn Peak we do it with ur-babe power.

any of you sorabjites who plan to spend some time here, be prepared to work. the rewards are well worth it.

anyone too fat or too soft or too lazy will be put in charge, or in the charge of, the geese, who are now in full mating mode.

it will be your responsibility to sit on the porch and observe the fuckfests, noting who does what to whom, the frequency, the social matrix, the dominance order, etc. and i need to know where all the ova are hidden. you will not be responsible for breaking up gander battles. i don't have that kind of insurance.

i want diagrams, pie charts, sound bites ( mean bites) spreadsheets, probability calculations, all the data required for documenting goose sex. this is not a job for weenies, so get in shape.

P.S. congratulations to PJBoy.

watching Soul Train and getting ready to go back to the gym after a two month hiatus.

i've discovered that being a slovenly bastard is a lot more work then it's worth. since i stopped going to the gym in early december i've had zero energy, zero motivation, and pretty much feel like crap all the time. basic tasks like getting out of bed and going to work take effort instead of being effortless.
what a rip-off.

i'd climb up the mountain and attend Sheila's Goose-Love Boot Camp, but although i'm sure it would get me back into pre-holidaze shape in no time, i'm afraid that between her, the geese and the goats, my ass would get permanently and terminally kicked with no hope of recovery. i'm gonna stay on this side of prudence and stick with free-weights and stair-steppers.

and nelly, i don't know exactly why that bull reminds you of me, but i'm thinking it could be because:

a) i'm full of bullshit

b) i'm bullheaded

c) that bull is a few blocks around the corner and down the street from where i work in the financial district

or d) all the above.

my ego has me leaning towards "c", but i'm sure the answer key in the back of the teacher's manual says otherwise.

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Thinking abt going to work for Sheila... I cd become the Masters & Johnson of
Anatidae sexual paractices! (And learn a few new positions in the process.)

(Wondering why is sounds like my neighbor's son trying to kick-start a damn motorcycle engine in his bedrm.)

If we cd get a camera crew together/maybe we cd sell the documentary to the Discovery Channel. Sheila cd use her share of the $$ to buy a power splitter. (Ur-babedom aside/ some jobs just ain't worth doing by hand. Like laundry. Or long-splitting.)

Sending JimBabe a virtual Margarita -- Congrats on yr new gig!
\_/
l

And debating whether or not to post a thread abt last nite's bomb endeavor...

wondering why we are looking at the wrong end of the bull to determine if it is swinish in proportion.

please take the Nikon around to the backside.

i don't split logs for effect, like ronald reagan, i do it to keep my house warm. the heating system is a rustic wood burning stove.

Thanking everyone for their congrats!

:-)

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listening to the radio. and drinking wine.

lying around surfing the web

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telling mommy on you

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http://www.krak.net

Wood-burning stoves are lovely. But pls. Sheila -- spring for the power splitter. Busting up hardwood is backbreaking work -- akin to breaking rocks. Even felons aren't required to do that kind of labor anymore.

I've bagged the demolitions excercise for tonite. Six & I are gonna watch a movie I rented (called 'Fire' /written & directed by Deepa Mehta) & call it a nite. Then go to sleep & dream of winning the $70 million FL Lotto jackpot. (If we get lucky/I wonder what wd be the 1st thing she'd buy? A lifetime supply of lab rats maybe?)

Goodnite, sweet
Sorabjians.

http://us.imdb.com/Title?Fire+(1996)

we all ended up at a place called Rick's - one of those cheap dives in a building that looked like a cinder block with a door on it. the sign over the door was rusted. i like quiet, dank, dead bars. i hate bars crammed with college kids and jukeboxes and chatter.

inside there were just a few people sitting around the bar - two women and two men. my friends and i took a table and had several rounds. there was no music there, so we started singing songs. i happen to play the harmonica, so i pulled it out started bleating on it.

after one of our songs, one of the women from the bar - a very large one - tapped me on the shoulder and said, "you can't leave," and walked off. i wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, but i still had enough money for drinks, so i stayed.

it turned out that those two guys at the bar had gone off to get their guitars. they didn't play well, they were just guys who knew a couple of songs on the guitar. we jammed for a while, me playing harmonica. then one of them gave me a guitar and i played a few songs and ended by leading the whole bar in a several rousing choruses of "cigarettes, whiskey, and wild wild women."

I got a couple of free scotches from the bartender for this. then he threw us out because it was closing time.

thank you very much for putting Closing Time and everything that happened around when i first heard it and then played it thousands of times. this was just about the time Victor the Thanksgiving Murderer appeared. i lived across the street from the hospital where i worked. one day for a killer headache i got a shot of demerol and my doc said have someone take you home. i lived across the street, for christ's sake! on the way home i ran into several parked cars and the cyclone fence around the footbal field at the high school where i had been dating the coach.

see, it just gets worse from there on. and you had to mention Closing Time. and scotch. well, i'm glad you had a good time, but you fucked up my day which was already semi-fucked.

not that i'm crabby about it or anything....

my apologies, then

doing nothing.

Congrats PJ on that new perm job that Carol gave you. It looks smashing....

oh, and sorry for taking so long there Mark but I've finally made my move. Your turn I believe.

i'm having this sudden flashback to one of my first experiences with "the theatre"

when I was a high school student, someone took me to see a production of Sartre's "No Exit", put on in the basement of a church....

Instead of the 3 couches in Hell, the characters in this one were made to sit on 3 structures representing wombs, suspended from the ceiling...

It was all very intellectually stimulating and boring at the same time.

I was about to write
something but, you know
what, I just don't have
the energy.

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thinkimg that front page photograph is phat.

and appropriate.

after all, manhattan is the island at the end of the world.

recalling a strange dream from early this morning. I was in a cafe reading the newspaper. Elvis and John Lennon were at a nearby table, talking quietly. I was trying extra hard to eavesdrop without appearing to be eavesdropping. I managed to overhear most of the conversation, except that now I don't recall what they were talking about, other than that Elvis was giving John some sort of advice.

I have no idea what the hell it all means.

It's been a very mild winter here, so it looks like I'll have an extra cord of tamarack. I'd email it to sheila if I knew how. We have lots of bull pine here but nobody's crazy enough to try to use it as firewood.

disconnected, bereft, guilty, achy

2/8/99, 12:09 PM
agatha is:

my evening's dream was that my stickbugs got out of control huge and made their way out of their cage. i was a little fearful to pick them up, as they were now almost the size of my arm. there were also iguanas running around my room in this dream, although i have no iguanas.

in real life, cleo is sick, and my grandma died. she had not really been in the here and now for three plus years. i remember the last time i went to visit her, i asked her how she felt about the nursing home she was in. she said, "oh, it's okay, but i'm not here at nights."

i said, "oh really? where do you go at night?"

she said, "oh, i go out with the boys at night."

hopefully, she's with the boys right now. i wish i had been there to say goodbye and wish her well on the next leg.

love you, grammy dot. goodbye.

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expressing sympathy to Agatha. Sorry.

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thanks, jim.

i am now sitting here watching a bad talk show. cleo is sick, so we stayed home.

we just finished malt-o-meal with brown sugar, butter, and milk.

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drooling.

yamaha released my baby over the weekend...

take a look at her.

isn't she pretty?

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http://www.yamaha-xg.com/english/xg/products/cs2.html

content, dazed, confused, overjoyed after a 24-hour long date.

please please please don't let me screw this up.

2/9/99, 0:14 AM
sarah is:

listening to jazz and reading all the WAYD posts. with the music, all the words seem to have a rhythm as i read them, and i can picture in my mind each and every one of you standing up at a mic speaking them instead of posting them here, each in your turn, and in my mind's eye, it's a beautiful, quirky thing, you characters. a familiar, comfortable, funky thing.

now i'm off to the gym, pray for my ankle.

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http://syrup.org/visions

Not sleeping. (Is premenstrual insomnia a real aliment/or just something my body made up?) But I'm sure I'll be knocked out when the alarm goes off @ 7am.

Craving some Wavy Gravy big-time. (I wd send Six to the store/ but she refuses to learn how to count her change correctly... Useless furball!)

Sending Agatha my condolences on the loss of her grandmother
And finding joy in the idea that she spent her last nites out hangin' w/her homies (real or remembered).
Hoping Grandma Dot's dancecard will be full for eternity...

I look in the face of common normal life.
The everyday humdrum of filtering through traffic.
The senselessness of working to push papers around or electronic signals that have replace the pushing of papers.
Do more with less, that's what computers do.
In the large scheme of things they do nothing.
Nothing real.
Leave work, eat, keep the machine working.
See people, see the play that is our lives played out.
Like the same record being remade every 10 or 15 years for a different generation.
Our older generation has seen it before.
Only now do I see the meaning behind mentoring.
To live through others to teach them not to make the mistakes you did, to show them the path, the differences between the paths laid in front of them.
What is real?
Family
Friends
Thought
Feelings
Honor

getting ready to write cover letters.

kicking ass all over my department.

missed 2 days so far this month. I'm still
signifigantly leading the team both in product
and quality.

i'm currently covering the ass of the second most senior tech on our team. she's MIA for this morning, as she is most morning.

i reviewed her work log this morning (just for shits and giggles,) only to find that she's done about 1/3 of the work i have, and her work she has done lacks substance and value.

GODDAMN I AM GOOD. I MEASURE MY WORTH ON THE FAILURES OF OTHERS.

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checking out that cs2x. very sweet, swine. when you get it, we can meet in a dark alley and battle away with our virtual analogue sounds.

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